Damaged (Boys of Winter 2)

“They all have siblings,” he grumbles, making my eyes bug out of my head as I pull the jeans up my legs, surprised to find that they fit like a glove. “However, I don’t see how that is anything you need to know.”

Damn. The respect I had for him plummets. This guy really isn’t who I thought he was going to be, but really? I don’t know why I expected anything different. I don’t know what kind of man my father was or what kind of company he liked to keep. Hell, maybe Tobias is just having a bad day or genuinely believes that I was in the wrong last night. I mean, yeah … I did kill Royston Carver. I’m not hiding that. I did it out in the open for the world to see, but he had it coming. He was practically begging me to make a move, and he learned the hard way that when you try to play games with me, you’re going to lose.

Tobias doesn’t say another word and I let out a sigh as I finish getting dressed, my mind picturing smaller versions of all the guys, and wondering what kind of people their little brothers and sisters might be. Though something tells me that they’re probably all a little more like their parents. Otherwise, I’m sure the guys would have told me all about them. But then again, maybe not. I’ve always had to squeeze information out of them, and every time I do, they act as though they’re doing me a grand favor.

I focus on pulling last night’s heels back onto my feet, and while they’re not exactly the kind of shoes I’d wear with an outfit like this, it works surprisingly well. I feel like absolute shit. A comfortable bed and a nice warm shower would have done me wonders, but it’s going to have to wait. Hell, I wouldn’t mind using the bathroom either.

Once I’m ready, Tobias steps out of the open cell door and leads me into the hallway, and while it’s still concrete walls and hard, cold floors, I feel as though I can finally breathe. He leads me down the long corridor, not saying a word and making me wonder just how guilty he thinks I am. It’s not as though he probably hasn’t killed men before. It was my impression that Dynasty shrugged off murder as though it was as common as choosing a paint color for their wives to redecorate their million dollar homes. No one flinched when learning that the guys single-handedly took out twelve hitmen sent for me. Aside from Royston’s title, why the hell would they care about this? Besides, I don’t want to sound like a cocky asshole or anything, but surely I have a bit of leeway as the leader, right? At least, I hope.

We walk out through the hallway and I have to admit that getting to walk is a million times better than having two random men dragging me by my arms. The walk is longer than I remember, and by the time we break out of the hallway and step into the main reception area of the underground world, my anxiety level has risen far beyond anything that I can handle.

Tobias doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care. I follow behind him, and with every step I take, I keep my eyes focused on his back. His build is nearly identical to his son’s, though that’s about as far as the similarities go. Personality-wise, they couldn’t be more different.

My heels click against the tiles as we walk through the wide-open space of the reception area, and it takes me far too long to realize that he’s leading me back toward the council chambers where I’d first met the other sixteen heads of Dynasty.

We make our way to the same hallway that I’d blindly followed Carver down just yesterday morning, and at Tobias’ deep sigh, I raise my gaze to find King and Grayson quickly approaching from the other end. Seeing me, they pick up their pace and don’t stop until King’s barging his father out of the way and taking my shoulders in his warm hands.

King’s eyes roam over my face. “Are you alright?” he demands as Grayson hovers in close as though he was protecting me from a threat, only it’s just us in this long as fuck hallway.

“Yeah,” I say, desperately wishing I could just push up onto my tippy-toes and press my lips against his, only with his brooding, pissed off father glaring at the three of us, now doesn’t really seem like the right time. “Cruz came and spent the night with me so I wasn’t alone.”

“But are you alright?” he questions, his eyes focused heavily on mine.

I press my lips into a hard line and shrug my shoulders because honestly, I have no fucking idea.